To be played as you read, if you wish:

“I had dinner before everyone else and afterwards I came and sat at the table, until eight o’ clock when it was understood that I had to go upstairs; the precious and fragile kiss that Mama usually entrusted to me in my bed at the moment I was going to sleep I would have to convey from the dining-room to my bedroom and protect during the whole time I undressed, so that its sweetness would not shatter, so that its volatile essence would not spread and evaporate and, on precisely those evenings when I needed to receive it with more care, I had to take it, I had to snatch it brusquely, publicly…”The Way By Swann’s, Marcel Proust.

Do people write like that any more?

(It’s so hard to read: the entire thing is long, winding sentences with occasional punctuation and very vivid imagery.)

Will I ever have the ability to read it in the original French?


I wish school-standard French taught you how to speak it fluently instead of useless little phrases and all that grammar. I’ll be pedantic about a sentence only after I can speak a whole one without hesitating, thank you very much.

On the day of my last journal entry I had a sudden, very strong craving for tea. This is remarkable because I tried tea at the age of eight and detested it. For the next eleven years I was to detest even the smell of the stuff, until I was struck by a need for tea. Weirdly enough, I’m now drinking silly amounts of the stuff. And I really like it.

I was told today, very sweetly, that I have a nice singing voice. It made me pleased 🙂